


Something Good

by Violino



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A Few Laughs, Falling In Love, Flirting, Fluff, Foreplay, Heartbreak, Kissing, M/M, POV Third Person, Romance, Sex eventually, detailed, mystrade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 22:05:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9848189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violino/pseuds/Violino
Summary: It's all fun and games until someone falls in love.





	1. The Invitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Would you like some sugar?" - Mycroft

A large town car for one person seemed like such a waste to him. Gregory Lestrade made himself as comfortable as he could in the cream colored leather seats. The driver made a stop at the gate and waited for personnel to open it. 

The bow tie made him uncomfortable. He wondered just how awkward he must've seemed wearing such fancy attire. If the guys at the Yard could see him now, what would they say? 

The invitation said it was a black tie event. He had gone to rent a tuxedo earlier that day because he wasn't a man who just had one hanging in his closet. Even though his job as a Detective Inspector required him to be presentable, he rarely attended events that demanded him to wear one. 

As much as he tried, he couldn't seem to get comfortable. He swayed from side to side, leaned back to feel relaxed, then finally gave up and sat up straight. He got closer to the window, his nose almost touching the cool glass. He noticed there were actual peacocks on the lawn nearby. Even through the tinted window he could see iridescent blue and green plumage. 

"This guy's gotta be kidding?" He murmured under his breath. 

He saw trees that were as tall as buildings. He made out different shades of green in the grass and the full rainbow in the various flowers that were planted all around the estate. 

He was pretty sure he heard Mycroft say "house" and he wondered why he didn't call it what it was, a mansion. Even the driveway seemed to be paved with gold and silver flakes. 

He chuckled to himself because he wasn't sure if that was just in his mind or there were actual sparkles on the road.  
"Well, Gregory. You're here. Fuck."

The driver stopped the car for a brief moment next to a water fountain. They waited for their turn as the car crept closer to the entrance. 

He could see the limo in front of him. When it stopped, he saw a young, attractive couple climb out from the back. 

His hands were clammy and no matter how hard he tried to remember the breathing techniques he had learned during one of the police training courses, he seemed to inhale more air than he actually let out. It hurt his lungs but it allowed him to concentrate on that instead of his other discomfort. 

It was his turn now. He felt as if he were attending an award show. All he needed were camera lights flashing everywhere for him to feel like a celebrity. 

A young man walked over to his door and held it open for him. Greg closed his eyes and took in a breath before he got out. "Fucking shit. What am I doing here?" He thought as he exited the vehicle. 

Greg didn't live an extravagant lifestyle but he wasn't a clueless idiot either. He knew how to present himself. He knew how one had to act during these events. He knew how to walk, how to stand, he knew what was appropriate conversation and what topics were best left for after parties. 

He buttoned up his suit jacket and followed the crowd that was headed up the marble stairs. He walked past a couple of tall potted plants and the columns near the large French doors. There were lights all around and he laughed to himself again, thinking that they only needed to flash for him to feel silly. 

He had walked into what resembled a theatre foyer. The guests where checking in their coats. He didn't have one so he slipped on by and continued to the main room. 

He heard the tinkly sounds of a piano and soon caught sight of the man playing it. There was a massive chandelier hanging in the center of the ceiling along with a couple of string lights around the walls. There were round tables everywhere. They were dressed up in white linen with silver plates and utensils sprinkled on top. The centerpieces were long thin tree branches and the chairs were lined with more silver. Everything complemented each other. Even the water glasses glistened. It was all very grand.

Two weeks ago, he had discovered the invitation on his desk.

_______

He was flipping through some files he had stacked up. That particular day had been rough. He had been so close to capturing the Waters gang but somehow they kept playing him. They managed to escape every time. He was cursing himself when his eyes stopped at the beige envelope. His name was written in cursive across the center. When he turned it over he saw red sealing wax and he recognized the official signature design.

A year ago, he had seen a similar envelope on John's side coffee table. The letter was next to it and when he glanced at it he was able to make out the words "birthday" and "Mycroft Holmes". 

Surely, this one couldn't have been that sort of correspondence. Not for this lonely DI and certainly not from the older Holmes brother. Mainly because just three days ago he had made a fool of himself by accidentally showing Mycroft what he felt towards him. His intentions were honest but he had been rejected. 

To his surprise, it was just that. It asked for the pleasure of his company at a birthday celebration for the secretive Holmes brother. The date and time were towards the bottom. In a smaller font below that, the words "black tie" were stamped. 

Greg was stunned. He thought, surely, after having practically thrown himself at him, Mycroft would stay as far away as possible, not wanting to lead him on in any way. Then again, an invitation didn't mean he was teasing. It would only be disappointing if he himself had thought of it as meaningful to begin with. He would not make that mistake. 

He picked up the envelope to read his name again just to be sure that it was intended for him. Gregory Lestrade. It was his name. It was meant for him. He was taken aback by such a gesture. He tried not to think of it too much but a smile formed across his face. 

_______

He thought about the invitation as he stood next to the bar. He was happy that Mycroft had thought of him enough to invite him to his party. He kept telling himself that it did have his name on it. Even so, he felt uncomfortable. 

He order his usual drink to help calm him. "Whiskey on the rocks, please." The bartender was quick to follow through.  
He took it and left him with a wink and a nod. 

He looked around the room and took an interest in the elegance of it all. He saw most of the gentlemen in similar tuxedos. The women donned colorful dresses. The older they appeared, the more jewelry they had on. Without a doubt, they were all dressed in their best. 

There happened to be a rugby game that evening. Normally, he would choose an evening at a stadium over such a glamorous affair any day. However, this wasn't just any event. This was special. 

He had met Sherlock five years ago and had met his brother soon after. In all that time, this was the first invitation he had gotten to any birthday celebration. He had been invited to holiday parties before but they had always been hosted by Mrs. Hudson. 

Maybe it was because in the past six months, they had become close. 

_______

They started working together for a case that involved a man who was stalking the prime minister. It was far too boring for Sherlock to get involved so he declined it right away. Such a delicate situation couldn't be left in the hands of just anyone. Mycroft trusted him and that made him feel important. 

It hadn't been quite that easy to catch the prowler. The first three months passed by without any new information. It started to unsettle Greg. He had experienced tough cases plenty of times before. He was use to disappointment but being the hard worker that he was, he felt almost ashamed this time. He always welcomed a challenge but how was he suppose to focus and impress at the same time? Even after all the dilemma, he was content because this allowed him to spend time with The Iceman. 

Being able to dissect someone's thoughts and desires with just one glance was a skill that ran in the Holmes family. Mycroft was the most experienced. Greg knew this and came to see it for himself. 

He thought that through his bold behavior he had been able to confess to Mycroft what his feelings were. He thought he could indirectly tell Mycroft that he was interested in him.

There had been days in which they were together from morning to night time. Some evenings extended to the early hours of the next morning. 

It was during these moments that their conversations had gotten more personal.  
They loved their privacy and neither had anticipated themselves trading classified information. 

One evening had gone longer than expected. They'd been arguing over a time stamp on some video footage. The bickering went back and forth. Greg unintentionally started raising his voice at one point. The government official was far too disciplined to return the attitude. 

In a moment of uncertainty, Greg had leaned in close and planted a kiss on Mycroft's puckered lips. It lasted only a couple of seconds but it was enough to make Greg's heart flutter. Mycroft drew back quickly, clearing his throat. He grew timid. Being uncertain of what to do with himself, he left the room. 

Greg was left to admire the feeling that still lingered on his lips. He wasn't ashamed for initiating the kiss because he had felt Mycroft kiss him back. 

After some time, he returned with a plate of brownies in hand. "Would you like some sugar? I mean-" Mycroft began to stutter. 

The detective inspector smiled and said profoundly, "I'd love some." He bit his bottom lip as he took a piece. 

After that, neither of them said anything for a long time. Eventually, Greg spoke but it was about the video. 

The evening had ended soon after that. 

Mycroft walked him out and that's when he let him down saying he wasn't the type of man who got involved with the help. This wounded Greg's pride. He said he understood but what he really wanted to say was where he could put his umbrella next time. 

Still, his feelings hadn't changed. He liked everything about him and that included his flaws. He had to admit that his arrogance was part of his charm.

_______

He was appreciative for having been invited to what was obviously an important event and he wouldn't have missed it for a game. Even though he was curious on what the score was, he shook that thought away and tried to focus on the evening before him. 

He took a sip. So far, he didn't recognize anyone. "I am at the correct address, right?" He asked himself. 

As he brought the glass to his lips again, he felt a tap on his shoulder. 

He turned around and saw it was John.  
"Glad to see you made it, Greg."  
John was also dressed in a matching tuxedo but he had opted for a white bow tie instead of the traditional black. 

"I made it. I'm out of place, I think." Greg took another sip. 

John smiled and replied, "You and me, both. I always feel strange being here. But it's for Mycroft. Can't let him down." John looked proper with one hand behind his back and even though he said he felt odd, he appeared to be comfortable. "To be honest, it's nice to be around other people right now. Sherlock's being...difficult, to say the least. You know how he gets." 

"Mmm, don't I? Did he refuse to come?" 

"Sherlock is hiding somewhere upstairs. I practically dragged him here. Didn't want to come. He'd rather have stayed at home, working on this stupid glowing bunny case. It's ridiculous but it keeps him occupied." John took a sip from his drink and continued on. "Then he gets worked up and becomes a nuisance."

Greg finished his drink. There was nothing but two ice cubes left in the glass. He replied, "Some things never change, eh?"

John laughed and said, "No. Never. But damn it, that's one of the reason why I love him. I just hope he sets aside this tantrum soon to at least be here for when they cut the cake. He'll throw a fit if he misses out on cake. And it's not every day you turn 50."

The prodigal son may have reached half a century but he was in great shape and could've easily have passed for a 40 year old. 

"Where is he, by the way?" Greg seemed a little too eager peaking around over people's head. He did it longer than he should have. 

John observed and Greg seemed to noticed that he was watching him. 

John had gotten suspicious since that one time a couple of weeks ago when Greg referred to an evening of paperwork with Mycroft as "a date". It wasn't how he usually expressed himself. That made it uncomfortable for both of them. 

Greg had never shared his preferences and feelings to anyone but he had a feeling that John would understand. He was sure that he already knew. It took one to know one. Besides, with a man like Sherlock as your companion, you were privileged to know certain things even before that person had any inkling. 

The DI could feel his face reddening. To avoid further humiliation he relaxed and claimed to fancy another drink. "Want one?"

John gently shimmied the glass in his hand, smirked and shook his head. 

Greg's cheeks grew crimson. Without another word, he walked over to the bar to order another whiskey. 

After some time waiting for his drink, he looked over to where he had left John. He found him occupied talking with a man who was twice his age. 

Eventually, he grew tired hanging out by the bar so he started to make his way around the room. He made small talk with a group of four men. He heard them speaking about the rugby game and chimed in to ask, "What's the score?" He was accepted into their clique pretty quickly once they realized he was supporting the same team. Even more so when they realized he had a job at Scotland Yard. Discussing criminals and their felonies made for a manly conversation in their eyes. There was nothing they enjoyed more than hearing of the adrenaline rush of catching bad guys. 

The evening passed and Greg was already finishing up his fourth glass. 

He could handle his liquor and could've had another glas with still no true effect but thought he better not. He didn't want to give a bad impression. "Why should I care? Do I care?" He thought. And yes, he really cared about what opinions they formed from their first impression of him. They were, after all, Mycroft's friends. 

Without noticing, he had drifted off away from the group. The last thing he remembered them talking about was the stock market and he wasn't particularly interested in investments at the moment. 

The evening seemed to be going just fine. In his opinion, it had been a success. There was only one problem: where was Mycroft?


	2. The Hallway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I would very much like to kiss you." - Mycroft

Greg looked around the room many times. He always saw the same painting: ladies and gentlemen, sitting at their tables, others mingling off towards the walls on the sides. He recognized most of them by now. He remembered that that lady in the cobalt blue dress had been talking to that one in the canary diamonds only five minutes ago and that gentleman with the white handlebar mustache had been conversing with the younger fellow who was still by the bar. Everybody appeared to be enjoying themselves. He, however, was anxious. 

He worked his way around, looking for the restroom. All the while still scanning faces in search for the guest of honor. He was going in circles and hadn't had any luck in finding either one. He wasn't in the habit of asking for directions and he wasn't about to start now. It couldn't have been that difficult. 

He walked past the tables and found himself at the foyer. There was a young lad in his early 20s attending the door. He quickly put his phone away and stood to attention. They made eye contact but Greg simply smiled and kept walking. 

He noticed the portraits on the walls. He didn't recognize any of the men but he saw one that resembled Mycroft. He saw other paintings and even though he couldn't tell you the names of the artists, he knew they were expensive. 

He stopped by the winding staircase and rested his hand on the cold beam. He hesitated for an instant to see if the youngster would try to stop him. He did not so he proceeded to climb the stairs, not skipping a step. 

He reached the top and was welcomed by a large, shiny medieval suit of armor. He shook his head a little because he wondered what else he would discover in Mycroft's mansion. 

Most of the upstairs section was poorly lit. He let his eyes adjust and continued on. He strolled down the wide hall, admiring what he could see and wondering what he was missing in between. He came to a corner where there was a warm light coming through from the edges of a door. 

He had a natural desire to seek out information so he walked towards it. The door was ajar and he slowly made his way through. He discovered that the door lead to an outside balcony. 

The first thing he noticed as he walked outside was the lighting contrast between the mansion and the beyond straight ahead. Had he not driven up while there was still a bit of daylight, he wouldn't have known that there was a grassy knoll and hunter green colored trees everywhere. There were glowing string lights wrapped from pole to pole. As soon as he closed the door behind him, the piano music became mute. He could feel his fancy shoes scrape along the clean concrete. Being there gave him the same feeling the bar did: comfort. 

He took a deep breathe in and let it out.

He knew he wasn't alone. He had known it the moment he closed the door. He felt someone near him but he neither looked their way nor said anything to them.

The sensation he felt in his bladder reminded him that he needed to urinate. He turned to walk away but was stopped by a soft voice. 

"Good of you to come." 

The inspector soon realized it was the person he had been looking for all night. Here he was, right next to him and they were alone. 

"Mycroft?" He had no doubt that it was him but he didn't know what to start out with. "Is that you? What are you doing here?" He was excited but he tried his best to hide it 

The birthday boy came out from a shadow. He said rather unsure, "I think I needed some fresh air." 

Greg looked fixedly at the man in front of him. He wore an ivory and black tuxedo jacket. The one button was made up, allowing him to see how perfectly tailored his suit was. It was flattering on his delicate frame. His hair was combed back and everything about him, from the watch around his wrist to his shiny black shoes, was well polished. 

Making eye contact, Greg replied, "Me too." He automatically motioned his arm towards his face as if he was about to get a mouthful of liquor. He remembered that he didn't have a glass so he combed his hair back instead. "Calm down, fool", he thought to himself. 

It had been over two weeks since their last interaction.

They stood 5 feet away from each other. Mycroft's body was turned towards the rails but his head was spun looking at the DI. Greg had his whole body facing him. 

Greg contemplated on what to say. "Say something, anything!" He finally went with, "It's a nice little party. Thank you for the invite." "Little?", he thought. It certainly wasn't little. 

"I am delighted that you accepted. Even more so that you welcomed transportation." Mycroft had sent the car. 

"Yes, well, it was already outside waiting for me. I figured what the hell, might as well." The inspector crossed his arms and held one hand up against his cheek. 

Normally, he was scruffy around his cheek and chin. He would shave occasionally but you could catch his silver hairs in between. Tonight, his face was smooth. He had gotten a haircut a couple of days ago so his textured hair still maintained definition on the sides and towards the back and his combover was short. 

Mycroft turned to look back towards the darkness. "It was no trouble at all. Thank you for cooperating. It's quite a drive coming up here. " He smiled sweetly. 

If it hadn't been for the pain that was building at the pit of his bladder, Greg would've stayed longer, exchanging casual sentences back and forth. After all, he had finally found the man. 

"We should head to the party. I'm sure they're dying to see you." Greg knew that Mycroft hadn't been there. He would not have missed such a debonair figure and could not imagine the guests letting him leave either. 

"I doubt anyone has noticed I'm missing. Besides, it's much nicer out here, don't you think, Gregory?" The corner of his mouth began to flex upward again. This troubled the inspector and the pain became unbearable. Both physically and emotionally. 

He wanted to agree. He wanted to tell him that they should stay all night out here but if he didn't pee soon, he would explode. "Could you excuse me for a moment?" He didn't wait for an answer and made his way towards the door. 

Mycroft noticed his small bounce. "Through this door, to the far right. You can't miss it." 

Greg practically dashed his way there. He had made it just in time. He relieved himself, washed his hands, used one of the fancy hand towels to dry off and headed back. He couldn't wait to return to Mycroft. He had a vivid image of him looking fanciful in his suit. It was lustful. 

He was half way down the hall on his way back to the balcony when suddenly, he found himself pushed up against a wall. 

It was dark and the only source of light came from the same door as before and a window on the opposite wall. 

He was rattled. His instincts took over and he drew his hands up fast. He felt the pressure from this person's body up against his. He was pinned between a velvet wall and a heated body. He felt a slight breeze on his face as they positioned their hands up against the wall behind him. He felt their hips thrust up against his. It took him a moment to get past the ambush to understand what was happening.

"I would very much like to kiss you." The voice was gentle and steady like honey and Greg had a sweet tooth. 

The DI relaxed his hands and then his body. He wanted nothing more than to feel Mycroft's soft lips on his again. He had been fantasizing of another ever since that night he had stolen their first one. 

While Mycroft waited for him to reply, he slid his hands down from the wall and went for Greg's waist. He moved smoothly past his arms and finally rested them on his strong pelvis. He felt the oblique muscles of his abdomen underneath his fingertips and this excited him. Instead of hiding it, he pressed up against him even more. 

Greg was getting hard as well. He placed his hands on Mycroft's shoulders and rubbed them firmly. Then he moved down to hold his triceps. The government official was not a muscular man but he was in shape. 

It was a good thing Greg couldn't see Mycroft lick his lips or else he would've gone animalistic on him. Mycroft moved in closer towards his face and brushed his lips up against the side of his chin. Then he whispered in his ear, "May I kiss you, Gregory?" 

The DI shut his eyes and took in a breath. He felt his whole body tremble. He wanted to respond affirmatively but words would not leave his mouth. He parted his lips but the only thing he managed was a low moan in the back of his throat. He then turned his head towards Mycroft's and grazed his cheek with his lips. 

Mycroft knew this meant yes but once again, he asked, "May I?" 

They were going by touch. Their lips were only an inch away from touching. They had synchronized their breathing without realizing it. Mycroft let out a sigh and started to ask again, "Gregory, I-" The DI felt the heat from his mouth. He could bear it no longer. He closed the space between them. 

This was nothing like their first kiss, the one Mycroft had fled from like he had seen a ghost. This one held fire and it grew hotter every second. They let their lips rest together a moment then they surrendered to the fever within their mouths. 

Their kiss was intense. Mycroft felt Greg's wet tongue and he let out a groan. Then he offered his tongue and Greg accepted it. He felt it towards the back of his throat and with every impact, his dick grew bigger. Greg would present his and Mycroft would pull it in deeper. 

They were breathing heavily, imitating each other's low sighs and strong exhales. 

"Oh, Gregory." Mycroft lowered his hands even lower and started to unbutton his pants. He sucked on Greg's bottom lip and then bit it a little. Then he unzipped his pants. 

Gregory opened his legs a little more and let him have his way. He didn't stop him. If anything, he encouraged him more by taking his hand and ramming it in his pants so he could feel his erection through his underwear. 

Mycroft cupped his testicles and gave them a light squeeze. He felt the prickly hairs underneath. Greg's rock hard dick was against his wrist. His body moved in sync with his hand. Then he placed his fingers over the head. He could feel a wet spot forming on the fabric. 

Greg had only imagined another kiss. This was something beyond his expectations but he loved it. 

The only thing Greg could see were the small lines of light from the window across from him. He knew this was fully turning Mycroft on, too. He got closer to kiss his ear. He let out a breath and asked him softly, "Do you want it?" 

Mycroft answered him by grabbing his hand and placing it right on his dick over his pants. Then he replied, "Mmm, yes, please."

Greg began to passionately kiss him again. He sucked on his tongue while he went for his button and zipper. He was acting so aggressively that he could've ripped apart his cummerbund. 

Without breaking their embrace, they danced towards one of the rooms. They reached a door and just as Greg was about to turn the knob, a man hurtled out of the room. 

It was Sherlock. He was stumbling all over the place, waving his arms in the air, pleading to them, "Please, don't! Wait until I leave! I..I can't... This is not something I want to know about!" He was obviously upset. 

Greg was mortified. As if the room was suddenly lit, he began to pull up his pants because they had slid down a little. Mycroft was pissed. 

"What in the bloody hell are you doing here?!" Mycroft yelled at his brother. 

Sherlock was making his way towards the stairs. He stopped briefly to explain himself. "I was...I was just... I needed a place to sleep. The...the party is boring and I...I came up here... but I didn't know this was going to happen! I was asleep! Then I heard...Oh, god..." Sherlock took his hands up to his mouth as if he were about to vomit. "I had no idea this was happening. I was asleep and then...well...it was too late. I'm going to leave now." He didn't wait for a reply and rushed down the stairs, leaving the two blushing men alone. 


End file.
